


5 things.

by ricepaperrollz



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dorothea is perfect, F/F, Fluff and Angst, I hope they know I love them, Ingrid character deep dive, Lesbian Ingrid Brandl Galatea, no beta we die like Glenn, wrote this for myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22015120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricepaperrollz/pseuds/ricepaperrollz
Summary: Ingrid Brandl Galatea recounts the 5 things she loves the most.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier (minor)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	5 things.

There are 5 things that Ingrid loves. Certainly there are things she likes; buttery pastries, silvery swords fitted like jewellery, swift eye contact in a library. However, these 5 infallible things overfill her brain with lightness, as if she were floating. The 5 infallible things that conversely drive her to shred the battlefield to pieces, sword and lance in hand; roaring as if every single person on the end of that sharp tip had threatened to take her 5 away from her. Ingrid Brandl Galatea was selfish and she could not stop herself. 

Five. the Pegasus, creatures of chivalry and magnificence. She had first encountered one at a young age; she had been playing with Felix, he had not been playing with her however, and now he was speeding after her in an attempt to regain his infantile dignity. 

_ “Just because you're better at fighting with other weapons doesn’t mean you can beat me with a sword!”  _

_ “Every knight fights with many weapons, Felix.”  _

_ “Well maybe I’ll become a knight who fights with only a sword, I’ll have less to carry anyway!”  _

_ “You’re not strong enough to carry them?”  _

She did not usually speak like this, especially to a small Felix. It was perhaps something she picked up, like children do. But all her thoughts were forgotten as she skidded to a stop, dirtying her new boots. The creature before her was grand, and strong and beautiful, though its eyes were intelligent and kind, almost greeting her.  _ Hello Ingrid, I am a Pegasus, I am exquisite am I not?.  _ Ingrid had become acquainted with many horses, and she did love them, but she had not had the same sense of power from them. The pegasus had folded its wings and turned down its snout, so she patted it with fragile fingers. 

Annette would say that Ingrid is a bread and jam person, purposeful on the outside and, well, jam on this inside. Ingrid would disagree. She doesn't feel like jam whenever she sees a Pegasus, she did not feel like jam then. She felt love, another weak string tied to her heart. It was awful and wonderful. 

Four. She would love to say that she loved all of her friends to equal degree, that she had the same bone splitting ache from bringing them all joy; but that would only be true for a whole person. 

Sylvain and Felix, she could think of them as two separate people, but admittedly she preferred them when they were together, lovers were often not perceived as separate beings. Silent hands searching for the other’s, conversations through glances, hearty laughs.

_ “I believe it would be wise to address the Minister- Are you two listening to me?”  _

_ Felix is taunt, face turned sharply away from Sylvain, lips desperately clung together attempting not to laugh. This being difficult as that was exactly Sylavin’s goal.  _

_ “What is it?” _

_ “Not to worry Ingrid, Felix just cannot resist my charm~”  _

_ Felix instantaneously rejected this, quite the juxtaposition to the silver band on his finger.  _

_ “So! The Minister you were saying…”  _

Ingrid wanted to protect them, and she needed to protect both of them. For if one goes so follow the other. 

Mercedes. A whole person. A whole person whose kindness transcends from the Goddess herself. Kindness that does not seek reciprocation of any sort, just seeks the wellbeing of others. 

_ “Ingrid I hope you’ve had breakfast- No you have not! Come here I’ll make you an omelette- Yes I have time- No don’t fret I’m happy to do this.”  _

Ingrid would often catch Mercedes praying, praying that did not cypher from the Goddess, did not pester for more and more; just simple divine conversation. 

_ “Ingrid have you come to pray?”  _

_ “No I am not religious- well not this type of religious.”  _

_ “I never said you had to pray to my Goddess.”  _

No, Ingrid’s heavenly official walks the earth, in graceful steps like walking on ice. Brown locks tumbling down Greek perfection. 

The ever abundant Petra, the great Catherine and her Shamir (also great, it should be noted), the righteous and intelligent Edelgard, the kindly yet gargantuan Annette and the gargantuan yet kindly Dedue. 

...And Dimitri, who had made mistakes and made successes, who was solemn yet harmonious, whose friendship she was devoted to. 

Three. Knighthood. It was nothing like in the novels, Ingrid did not save a ladies in distress from beasts, tyrants or towers. She was not given a new armour embellishment or medal after every battle. But there were quiet moments. Young soldiers listening to her spin a yarn of death-defying duels surrounding an open fire. Young boys and girls gazing at her, wooden swords in hand, as if she were the exact picture of their dreams. New lands with new people with new creatures with new landscapes. Ingrid was terrible at many things, and mediocre at even more; but being a knight was not one of them. 

Two. Delicate brown locks cascading down strong feminine shoulders, dancing across porcelain skin with any abrupt movement. Sharp green eyes, intelligent pools of hypnotism, that can induce intimidation or flattery with the switch of a glance. A body with no imperfection, as if when she was filled with her essence she formed in exact totality, as if the oven was put on the right temperature and taken out at the moment necessary. And when Ingrid looked at Dorothea she could feel nothing but helpless heart ache. 

_ “He will not listen to reason, I don’t know what to do.”  _

_ Green eyes glance up from a fine teacup  _

_ “It is not your job to make people listen to reason, Dear, it is your job to make sure people are safe and to fight for  _ your  _ reason.”  _

_ “But-” _

_ “If you can’t make him listen to reason, make sure everyone else does. The masses control the opinion.”  _

_ Dorothea moved her hand to trace gentle circles on Ingrid’s hand.  _

_ “You will do what’s right.”  _

_ Another coup d’etat on her soul.  _

One. Ingrid heard many voices throughout each day; Mercedes’ like a bell, Felix like a clash of swords, Edelgard’s like oak. Many were nice, many were not, most she did not give much thought. There was one voice that plunged her into the depths. Dorothea Arnault’s voice was freshly baked cake at a group affair, the echo in a church in an argument, a broken glass in sadness. Her most beautiful voice was a quiet whisper in Ingrid’s ear, fingers drifting down Ingrid’s spine as if it were a safe including all of her belongings, it was exactly what Ingrid’s heart craved, what her mind conjured on dark nights. Brain melting. 

_ “Galatea is a beautiful last name, Ga-la-tay-ah, I should like to have it. To have it to share with you.”  _

**Author's Note:**

> I have never posted on AO3 before good lord. I hope you enjoy even though I wrote this in the middle of the night without my glasses. 
> 
> Anyways. Ingrid Brandl Galatea is a lesbian. Stay woke.
> 
> Don't attack me about the way I wrote how Galatea is pronounced. I looked it up and it was wrong but mine's better. End of story.


End file.
